


Little Strands of Paradise

by pinkpines



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Hair Braiding, Haircuts, Implied/Referenced Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpines/pseuds/pinkpines
Summary: Jeralt has been cutting Byleth's hair since she was old enough to need a haircut. Turns out he's still the only one fit for the job.Meant as a stand-alone fic but also aligns with the events in "Partners" if you want it to apply there, too.





	Little Strands of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a thank you for enabling and encouraging my free fall into this rarepair.

It was strange to admit that the sight of the back of her head was one he was so familiar with, to the point where he was certain that he would always be able to pick her out quickly and easily in a crowd. How many minutes and hours had he stared at the back of her head while he had scissors in his hand? How many times had he fondly looked at the crown or the slope of her shoulders and thought how lucky they were at all to be able to have a moment as simple as him cutting his daughter’s hair?

Over the years, it was something he’d done so often he’d lost count. It stood to reason that at this point he’d have gotten a bit better at this sort of thing but truthfully he hadn’t improved as much as he would have liked.

When it came to cutting Byleth’s hair only two things truly factored into it at all: a matter of necessity and her general preferences. She liked having a bit of fringe above her eyes and liked it somewhere near her shoulders. Simple enough for him to manage. After all, she didn’t choose him because of his skill as a barber.

He knew he wasn’t able to cut her hair in a manner more suited to a girl her age, not as sleek and even all over as it should have been, her strands too many varying lengths by the end of his ministrations for it to have been done well. Even if the mothers in the villages they traversed through seemed to think that her hair was a mess, Byleth always looked up at him, lips upturned at the corners ever so slightly after seeing her freshly cut hair in a mirror. He could tell that she liked it by the small gesture alone, and she meant it.

It started ages with Jeralt just trimming the ends to be a practical length, and then it was trimming her bangs so they wouldn’t be a nuisance when they were working on a job together. The older she was the less she needed him for her fringe, she learned to trim them herself with a small pair of scissors she picked up on their travels and a tiny hand mirror. Yet, she always called on him to help her take care of the rest of it.

And somewhere along the way, he came to look forward to it.

She always treated it like she was putting him out by asking, apologizing as though it must be a burden but secretly, Jeralt was always happy to say yes. The quiet moments where a small Byleth would sit cross-legged on the floor between his knees as he struggled to make sense of her straight blue hair. Days when she was taller, leaner, and would sit on a chair in front of because she was growing up faster than he had liked to admit.

Sometimes they’d sit in silence for the entirety of the process, sometimes the only sounds were him swearing under his breath because who knew cutting hair was so damn difficult anyway? The times he relished were the times she would speak to him, voice so hushed it felt like whatever mundane thing she spoke about was actually a precious secret.

To have his thoughts wander to such nostalgic places was somewhat unlike Jeralt. He was pulled back to the present by Byleth, who turned around, giving him a look that meant she was wondering what he was actually doing back there that was taking so long.

“Sorry, it’s nearly done.”

He threaded her hair between his index and middle finger, pulling her hair taut so he could see how even his work was (the answer was not very) and he eyeballed the length as best as he could before using the same small scissors to trim the last section he’d missed. His fingers combed through her hair when he was done with the last piece, and Byleth hummed happily at the feeling of his hands sliding through her hair.

“That took a while,” she noted.

“I didn’t cut much,” he admitted. “Having it a little bit longer suits you.”

She’s quiet for a beat and then nods.

“I remember you saying that before. I think I’ll let it grow out a bit, then. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Ah, she’d been paying attention to that, had she? She was always keenly observant.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t interfere with any of your academic responsibilities, though I can’t say it might not prove a bit distracting to some of the students.”

She scoffed, a puff of air passing her lips and to anyone else, it wouldn’t have seemed like much, but to Jeralt it was just as good as a belly laugh.

“Braid my hair.”

“Hm?” His fingers stopped their movement through her hair, a little surprised at the request.

“I want you to braid my hair like yours.”

As if there were any way in the world he could possibly say no to such a thing.

“Alright, Kid. Whatever you want.”

Braiding her hair was an easier affair. How many years of practice did he have braiding his own hair? At least half a century, by his count. It was hard to know exactly when he’d given up keeping track of his own age. It hardly mattered.

Byleth’s hair was softer than his, so much so that one of his favorite things to do was to slide his fingers through it when she was sleeping peacefully beside him. Those were rare moments he could be alone with his thoughts and things managed to feel somewhat peaceful.

It was still strange and new, but he appreciated them all the same.

Thick fingers parted her hair, gathering it at the sides, fingers sliding through silken strands and brushing against her scalp every now and then. He could see her posture change, feel the way her shoulders relaxed a bit, her body leaning back in the chair slightly as he braided her hair at a steady pace, but not nearly as fast as he could have been going.

“This feels so nice,” she sighed, and she leaned back a little more in her chair.

When his fingers neared the nape of her neck his hands faltered slightly, the path of his hands making a detour to touch the soft skin there. Byleth shivered a bit and he smirked.

This was the easy bit now, looping three sections of hair just right, weaving them together into one larger piece. He could probably do it with his eyes closed.

He continued on slowly, eventually noting a floral smell that seemed to be radiating from the person sitting in front of him. His knowledge of flowers and their smells were limited but he knew enough to note it was soft, floral, distinctly feminine but without being overpowering. It was delicate and hardly noticeable unless you were in close proximity, it seemed.

Had she worn perfume for him? Or was it her hair that was radiating the scent? Maybe a fancy soap of some kind? He wasn’t all that familiar with what it was specifically. Truly it didn’t matter.

As he reached the end of the braid he found he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips from lingering there. He tied the end of her hair with a thin ribbon she seemed to have. It was simple, dark blue, nearly blended in perfectly with her hair color, too.

Fingers sliding over the neatly done braid he moved it to the left a bit, leaning down to press his lips at the nape of her neck, and then once again under her right earlobe.

“All finished,” he said quietly before standing upright, appreciating his own handiwork as Byleth stood up.

Her cheeks were a light dusting of pink and though he preferred her hair, wild and untamed as she was, he had to admit something so different from the norm was quite the sight. She hadn’t asked him to braid her hair in many years. He wasn’t sure why she wanted one now but he was happy to oblige her.

“Do you like it?”

“What’s there not to like?”

“Do I look like you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “You look better.”

She played with the end of the braid, twisting it in her hands in a motion that was so undeniably feminine it took him off guard. She was not playing fair. He’d save his protests for now. There would be where he could discern the origin of the sweet smell for himself, a time where he could press his face against her skin and in her hair freely and to his heart's content.

It was a mystery he could solve another time.

“What matters is if you like it, though.”

“Of course I like it.”

“You haven’t even seen what it looks like,”

“But I have seen it, on you, every day.”

Facing the mirror she got a few steps closer and seemed to be assessing her reflection. She turned her head left to right, and then right again.

“Why do you keep your hair done like this?”

“Just easier, neater, quicker in the mornings, too.”

Byleth paused for a moment, assessing him in a way that to Jeralt, was quite obvious.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your hair pulled back and braided…”

He knew that look, it was the look she got when something had piqued her curiosity. Sometimes it was trouble, and other times it was a boon. He waited patiently to see which category this might fall under.

“That’s true, I don’t really undo it often.”

“Is it long?”

Her hands reached up to either side of his face, brushing over his beard and sliding over the hair near his temples. Byleth did this with more and more frequency since their relationship had begun to change. Did she notice these small differences, or was this just so normal now she didn’t give it a second thought?

“You can see for yourself if you’d like.”

She nodded and continued to move her hands around, sliding over the back of his head, along the braid, looking for the clasp that kept everything tied together.

Their two approaches to the same idea really said so much about them, Jeralt thought to himself. It was amusing, how he had felt comfortable behind her, unfettered by her piercing eyes. Byleth always strode head on into everything, she was very to the point so it was natural that she felt the most comfortable undoing his hair from the angle that made him extremely aware of how close she was.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to settle his heart down. He was too old to let the warmth of her breath on his cheek do this sort of thing to him. In that state of self-induced darkness, her nimble fingers had begun to loosen his braid and she was undoing it carefully with her fingers.

His hair was always pulled back so tightly, he could feel his scalp relax as she released the tension there, and since his braid was fairly short, she fluffed and ruffled it with her fingers.

Jeralt dared to open his eyes again and there she was, Byleth, with the sweetest expression on her face, a blush on her cheeks.

“So what do you think? Is it better or worse this way?”

His blond hair went past his shoulders, and combined with the short blond spikes he had atop his head, he was sure it wasn’t very impressive.

“I like it,” was her simple answer.

He could live with that.

“It’s different. You should leave it loose more often but…”

Byleth bit her lip and let her fingers play with a lock of his golden hair, not meeting his gaze.

“Could you only show me?”

Ah, an earnest request. She seemed to think it was silly to ask but to Jeralt, he understood the feeling of wanting to keep some things just to yourself.

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t show Leonie?”

That got her attention quickly, her eyes meeting his, ready to protest but her words falling short when she saw the smile playing on his lips.

“You’re teasing me.”

“I’m sorry,” he admitted. “But you should know, you’re the only one I’d let see me looking this crazy.”

She scooted a little closer, standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. He bent over a bit to meet her partway.

“I think you look handsome.”

“Is that so?”

Nudging his nose against hers, Jeralt pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, the delicate smell of flowers combined with the sweetness of her mouth making his head dizzy. His fingers entwined in her strands the way she was entwined inside of his heart.


End file.
